


A Very Q(ueer) Month

by Rigel99



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Flirting, Inspired by Skyfall, M/M, Minions, Q Branch, Sassy, Skyfall, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-06-25 04:30:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19738348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rigel99/pseuds/Rigel99
Summary: A little something for July's 007 Fest.(From Somewhere North of London, With Love.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little something for July's 007 Fest.
> 
> (From Somewhere North of London, With Love.)

**_July 1st 2019_ **

“First day, first day, can’t be late, can’t be late.”

Q panted evenly while weaving through the London traffic, careful but fast. One Summer spent as a cycle courier, taking his life into his hands daily, had made him not so much reckless, just a little bit more fearless. He pulled up to a red light, alongside a rather gorgeous Aston Martin, rumbling throatily.

He glanced at the short-haired, blonde driver who was on his mobile. Q tutted.

He pulled away on the amber, beating the flash bastard across the junction. He grinned. MI6 wouldn’t know what hit it.

* * *

_**July 2nd 2019** _

Bond loathed breakfast meetings with M, especially after pulling an all-nighter catching up on paperwork he had so diligently managed to avoid for the last fortnight. Of course, his mood hadn’t been massaged into a particularly good one having kicked off yesterday by being taken on by a _pushbike_ of all things, across Vauxhall Bridge. Still, the biker’s arse had been nice so he’d felt benevolent for all the fifteen seconds it had been in view before diving down a side street….

“…. _I do appreciate this, Tanner_ ,” Boothroyd’s soft lilt floated through the door to M’s outer office. _“He’s a good lad but a transition from Five to Six is daunting for anyone with experience, never mind a fellow so young, and after what happened the last time with 00–”_

Bond pushed opened the door. “My ears are burning.”

Both men stood, Tanner, the usual expressionless gaze graced his features (Bond had lost more than his fair share to the man’s poker face) while Q was less than deadpan. The old boy could scowl for Britain, were it a sport.

“As well they should be, Bond,” he huffed. 

He turned back to Tanner. “Nothing too intrusive, mind,” he said with a wink, tapping the side of a nose made crooked from younger days spent in the boxing ring.

“I suspect I’ll see you later, 007,” he mumbled while exiting the room.

“I look forward to it, Q,” Bond replied as the door shut.

Bond looked at Tanner with a raised eyebrow. “Nothing with which you need concern yourself,” Tanner said with a tilt of his head towards M’s office door. “Come along. She’s waiting.”

* * *

**_July 3rd 2019_ **

“How are you doing there, lad? Taking it all in?”

Ben Wilson looked up from his iPad and smiled at his new boss. “It’s a step up from my role at MI5 but I can’t deny I’m flattered at the level of trust you are putting in me.”

Boothroyd laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “My boy, after hearing what you did to get the various sections of Five running smoothly and coordinating properly, it was inevitable that you come on board and do the same for Six. Not that foreign is more important that domestic intelligence. And let me tell you, I owe my counterpart over there a few dinners for letting me poach you!”

Ben felt himself warm at the compliment. “I hope I can live up to your expectations, Sir.”

Q shrugged as though it was a given. “Off you go and process that lot then,” he said, returning to his chair and glancing at the clock on his PC.

The lad nodded and exited the office, turning the corner just as Bond came round the corner of the corridor at the far end behind him. Bond slowed his pace momentarily, frowning in recognition. 

_I always remember a pretty arse,_ he thought to himself. _Where have—_

But that train of recall was cut short by Boothroyd sticking his head out of his office door. 

“Come along, Bond! I haven’t got all day to pander to your dillydallying!”

* * *

**_July 4th 2019_ **

“Nice screensaver, Ben.”

Ben fumbled, nearly dropping his iPad, so engrossed had he been in the additional figures Q had sent him for his streamlining task.

“Dammit, Beck!” he groused, turning to his grinning colleague and former college cohort. 

“Can still sneak up on you. You’d be rubbish in the field,” she crowed. “Nice that you’re not perfect at _everything_ I suppose.”

Ben snorted. “I’d be excellent in the field, thanks very much,” he retorted.

“As the honeypot target, _maybe_ ,” she countered. “How’s it going anyway?”

“Lots of potential,” he said, his eyes lighting up, “already I can see the Double O programme is grossly over-budget so we can easily save a fortune…” he paused. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She grinned again. “Oh. No reason.” She patted his shoulder while passing him to head in the direction of the canteen. “Can you let me know when you’re gonna break that news to the agents though? I’d like to sell popcorn…”

* * *

**_July 5th 2019_ **

Beck hooked the toe of her shoe beneath the trolley and yanked it towards her from underneath the car.

“Oi!” Ben groused, dropping whatever tool he’d been holding with a clatter. She stared down at him, somehow managing to look impassive and impatient at the same time.

“It’s 8.30pm on a Friday.”

“And?” he replied while pulling himself back underneath the Aston. “We’re not at Uni anymore you know.” The grind of metal mingled with his words. “In case it had escaped your attention.”

“You’re still not funny, nor much fun,” Beck said.

“It’s my first week. I have powers-that-be to impress.” She heard the switch of tools, knowing that when he was this focussed on a task it was impossible to wrench him out of it.

“Besides. This IS my idea of fun. And it’s not like Russia takes a night off from trying to throw a spanner in the works of Western ideology.”

Beck rolled her eyes, turning on her heel, to be met by the sight of 007 standing with in a full body lean against the frame of the workshop’s ajar entrance. 

She grinned. “Bond! My saviour in wolf’s clothing! You’ll take me for a beer, won’t you?”

“That depends. What’s in it for me?”

She swiped her rucksack from the floor while moving towards him. “A pint and the promise that I won’t tell Q that it was you who broke…” but the rest of the sentence was lost in the corridor outside.

And Ben? Well. He had better things to do right now...


	2. Chapter 2

_**July 6th 2019** _

It was the soft paper bag dropping on his head that woke him. He blinked his eyes open though the first thing that registered in his brain was the smell of coffee. Ben rolled his shoulders back and peeled his face from his desk, mercifully having avoided spending that four hour nap with his cheek pressed to his laptop keyboard. Grunting he rolled his shoulders back and sat up. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t have opened his eyes.

Beck was standing the other side of the desk, next to a rather attractive man whom Ben had yet to make the acquaintance of.

He could think of a hundred and one better case scenarios than the one he in which he was caught right now.

“Tim Villiers, the man who keeps M on the straight-and-narrow, meet Ben Wilson, latest hotshot to be poached from MI5.” Beck plonked her backside down gracelessly and grabbed one of the bags.

Ben wiped a sliver of dried drool from the corner of his mouth, all the while being watched by Villiers like some sort of curious species of mammal only recently discovered.

Beck slurped her coffee. “Sorry,” she said. Ben glared at her obviously not-sorry-at-all tone which he knew all too well.

“He bribed me with muffins. Wanted to meet the new blood that Q has been gushing about.”

Ben sighed. He’d had better first weeks though he was about to discover the next would make this one pale in comparison.

* * *

**_July 7th 2019_ **

Every year, Ben set this morning aside for himself, and more importantly, for the memory of his sister. Though 14 years ago, the memory of the London Bombings remained a strong echo of pain and loss for the Wilson family.

And so, after breakfast with Turing and Clarke, he visited her grave in Hampstead and went to their favourite birthday sushi bar (alone) to toast her memory.

He lost himself in the ritual of the food and thoughts about their best and worst moments together, but Ben being Ben, couldn’t help but give a small portion of his expansive mind to the conversation between two very sharply dressed, very attractive men sitting across from him at the sushi-laden conveyor belt. Louise would have had both their phone numbers before they’d scoffed £20 worth of sashimi.

Lipreading had been a game they’d played from a young age to better understand their cousin, Sophie.

“When do you leave, Ronson?” the blond, blue-eyed man asked before snagging a dish from the conveyor belt.

“Early tomorrow morning. Plane lands in Istanbul and I’m meeting the contact there. The handover should be—“

The man called Ronson nudged him, causing him to glance in Ben’s direction, who suddenly found himself fascinated by the latest creation of the sushi chef standing front left of his position.

The men paid their bill and left without a second glance.

Ben sighed. Maybe Beck was right. He’d be rubbish in the field…

* * *

**_July 8th 2019_ **

_“Ma’am. I must protest…”_

The door to M’s office was open barely a crack and the muffled voices carried into Villiers’ anteroom. Ben and Q were sitting opposite the PA’s desk, waiting their turn to be called into the inner sanctum.

 _“Not another word of protest, Ronson,”_ M’s clipped tone broking no further discussion. _“You have been compromised. It’s highly likely you are amongst the assets on the hard drive and I have deemed it an unnecessary risk. 007 will be taking point on this mission in Istanbul and that is my final decision.”_

Ben could practically feel the tension through the wall, and a second later, a clipped “Ma’am” was the single syllabled reply before the door swung open and Ben ducked his head engrossed in his iPad as he recognised the man whom he had sat opposite only yesterday in the sushi restaurant. Ronson didn’t spare anyone a glance, seething quietly.

Q stood with a nod from Villiers and Ben followed suit. “Something you’ll have to get used to, lad,” he said quietly. “The Double Os are a handful, make no mistake.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No credit for July 10th. plagiarised 99% from the Skyfall script.

**_July 9th 2019_ **

Ronson frowned. “You look familiar… why do you look familiar?”

Q coughed. “Pay attention, 005. If you don’t know how to use my kit, you won’t be prepared for any and all eventualities.” 

Ronson tore his eyes away from the young boffin hovering by Q’s side. “Apologies, Quartermaster.”

“Now. With Bond gone dark, we have to assume the worst case scenario. He may have been compromised–”

“Or killed,” Ronson provided helpfully.

Q chuckled. “The man has the lives of a dozen cats, 005, and he’s not even halfway through them. The day 007 dies… Well. I’ll send an exploding pen to the Queen herself.”

Ben stood diligently in silence, absorbing all the information offered like the gigabyte brain he was, listening to Q explain the tracker, the gun and the comms…” And one day, I’m going to figure out how to tag you lot so we never lose track of you,” he grumbled. Beck had said that the Double Os were the greatest asset of MI6 but also the biggest headache. Ben was already working through scenarios in his head where he could lessen that headache.

Ronson pocketed the gear and made to convey a parting nod to Q. He paused again to frown at Ben.

“You definitely look familiar.” 

Ben felt his neck flush lightly under the brief scrutiny. “I just have one of those faces,” he said softly with a tilt to the corner of his mouth.

* * *

**_July 10th 2019_ **

It’s all a bit much for the new blood of MI6. It’s only his second week in the job for fuck’s sake. And while MI5 hadn’t been dull, it was nothing like shadowing the Quartermaster of MI6…

_“Bond’s down._ _He needs medical evac.”_

M stood by her window overlooking the Thames. “Where is it? Is it there?” she barked over the earpiece.

 _Hard drive’s gone._ Ronson.

She grimaced. “Are you sure?” 

_“It’s gone. Give me a minute._ A pause. _They must have it.”_

“Get after them,” she ordered.

_“I’m stabilising Bond.”_

It was then Ben, realising he was holding his breath, released as slowly as he dared.

“We don’t have the time,” her matter-of-factness in the face of death never failed to impress, or frighten, depending on your perspective.

_“I have to stop the bleeding!”_

“Leave him! You’re jeopardising the mission!”

(CAR HORNS HONKING)

“The cavalry’s arrived then,” Q muttered under his breath so only Ben could hear.

 _“Have you got him?”_ Ronson again.

 _“He’s in the black Audi.”_ The first words Ben ever heard uttered by Eve Moneypenny.

_“What about Bond?”_

_“_ Coldhearted killers they may be, but the Double Os are brothers-in-arms,” Q whispered.

_“He’s been hit.”_

“We’re sending an emergency evacuation squad,” Tanner replied.

_“They’ll be too bloody late!”_

(TIRES SCREECHING)

_“He’s seen us.”_

Ben stood by a silent watchful eye at the centre of the controlled chaos. Sometimes, however, Her Majesty’s Secret Service doesn’t always get it right. One agent downed by another, but at least medivac got to Bond in time and stabilised him before they lost him too.


	4. Chapter 4

**_July 11th 2019_ **

Bond woke. He’d had a variety of near death experiences, none of them pleasant. This one had left him feeling turned inside out.

He shifted his head towards the door, vaguely sensing another presence in the room. That was a mistake.

“I was told you were indestructible. Never thought I’d get to witness your terminator-like qualities up close and personal.”

Bond tilted his head a little further across the pillow to meet the gaze of one very tall, very slender beautiful woman. 

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced…” he ground out.

“Eve Moneypenny.”

“Charmed I’m sure.” Bond returned his gaze to the window. “Ronson didn’t make it did he.”

Eve pursed her lips and remained silent.

“And the hard drive?” His throat felt like Sahara dust. And he would know.

“In the wind,” she replied. “No doubt whoever has it, we’ll be hearing from soon. You’re been shipped back to London tonight. Now that you’re stable.”

“Joy,” he replied. “I hope my welcoming committee is as pleasant as your good person.”

“I wouldn’t bank on it,” Eve replied. “But you never know. M might not be feeling her usual murderous self.”

* * *

_**July 12th 2019**_

“So I’ve been thinking, Major–” Ben began tentatively. He knew the man respected his opinion but sometimes, too much of a good thing can be, well, bad…

“Always a good start in a job like this,” Q replied, stifling a yawn into his coffee. He’d pulled an all-nighter at Six, trying to salvage what remained of the Istanbul debacle, but had sent Ben home for a few hours rest, which in all honesty, had done him good. Cleared his head. And the cycle back in the chilly early morning air had only further knocked what was left of the fuzzy cobwebs from the day before.

Ben stared into his cup of Earl Grey, contemplating. “I think we should merge Q-Branch with the Double O programme.”

Q was halfway through a sip of his second cup of coffee and had to suppress a cough when some of the liquid went down the wrong way.

“Hear me out, Sir, not the whole branch, obviously, just a section that bridges the field missions directly with our protocols. It could potentially create a positive feedback loop between…”

And for the next 20 minutes, Ben talked. Q listened. He may be an old school Major, but he’d seen enough of the world to understand it would move forward with or without him. He’d prefer the former option.

Ben trailed to the end of his thought experiment, and Q sat silent while digesting the information, sipping his now cooling coffee with a contemplative look on his worn out features.

“Sir?” Ben queried, nervously fiddling with his own now empty mug of tea.

“I only see one glaring flaw, lad.”

Ben looked suddenly hopeful. One _flaw_ he could work with. He is a genius after all.

The spark of challenge in Q’s eye made his stomach swoop in anticipation.

“How do you plan to convince our agents with a licence to kill?”


	5. Chapter 5

_**July 13th 2019** _

_“To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy.”_

Ben heard the quote echo in his mind. (A favourite book of his, which comes to the surprise of many.) Poring over the files of each of the Double Os, he sought common ground on which he could build his case. Though younger and less life experienced than each of them, the history of every agent that ends up serving their country in the field of Military Intelligence overlaps somehow. All Ben had to find was that common thread, unravel it and bind it to his idea.

Most of the reading was painful. In particular, the history of 007 took some beating, as did his life: personal loss, betrayal, bouts of alcoholism, going off the grid for extended periods only to return better and stronger, a phoenix from the flames of his own hellfires.

Ben knew then, Bond was the agent to convince. Bring him into line, and the others would not question the efficacy of his proposal.

He closed his eyes and took a breath before grudgingly, he opened to the last file, his own.

_“Know yourself and you will win all battles.”_

* * *

**_July 14th 2019_ **

It was dark. It was always dark around the edges of his dreams. Things concealed in the shadows, but Bond knew what they were, who they were. 

Constant companions.

There to remind him forever and a night of his own design, a wrecking ball covered in jagged spikes with a hollowed out centre that was now a black hole where he soul once lived.

He had killed, and he would again. No light would ever be bright enough to escape the pull of his darkness. 

_“Is he lucid, Doctor Emery?”_

_“Not in the slightest, Quartermaster. Though sometimes I’ve learned that is the time one can get the best out a Double O, at least in my line of work.”_

Three blurry humanlike shapes swam before his eyes.

_“Well that’s fine. No rush. We can come back tomorrow. It’s not like the Medical Wing is a million miles away,” Q said._

The grey-haired shape turned away but the dark-haired one lingered a little longer.

“Come along then, lad. You’ll meet him tomorrow. We want him a bit perkier with less of the bastard.”

Bond couldn’t let that one slide, and for a moment his vision cleared, the room coming into sharper focus.

The younger visitor had turned away and Bond heard, “Oh Major. You dropped your pen,” before bending over to retrieve it, giving Bond a glorious view and a reminder of a cyclist with a memorable asset from two weeks before…

He dropped his head back against the pillow.

And giggled for a full ten seconds before going under once more.

Both men and Emery turned as one. “Well,” Ben said, gazing intently at the agent, “who says the drugs don’t work?”

* * *

**_July 15th 2019_ **

Beck was sitting behind Ben’s desk, eating her lunch like a woman starved.

Ben walked up and dropped his iPad with a gentle clatter. “You know, I hated when you did that in college and I find that sentiment hasn’t changed.”

“Your desk is cleaner than mine,” she mumbled with a wave of her hand while munching through a bite of her apple.

He resigned himself to defeat for the day, given how the day had gone so far.

“What? No pithy, sassy retort?” she enquired. “That signals the shittiest of days have indeed been had.”

Ben slumped forward with a sigh and rested his head on folded forearms.

Beck mirrored the position. “Bond not taking the bait then?”

He tipped his head up and peeked at her with a frown over his jumper. “What do you mean bait? I mean, he’s biting like a shark if that’s what you mean, telling me to fuck off and leave him alone every single time today, the last time before I even got within ten paces of his room!”

She leaned back and laughed loudly. Sobering quickly, she gathered her lunchbox, drink and stood. 

“I mean you, jailbait. If you’re not playing to your strengths, you’re not playing their game. Knowing their history isn’t enough. Reading the room in the moment is where it’s at.”

Ben sat back then, looking at her curiously. “Since when did you get so fucking savvy?”

She grinned. Rounding the desk, and said simply, “try survive working with these fuckers for a year and see your learning curve double back on itself.”

She bent down to whisper in his ear, “your move, Benny Boy. Ask yourself before you next walk in that room, who’s the Daddy?”

* * *

_**July 16th 2019** _

Bond blinked. Maybe he was developing cataracts. Maybe the nurse had upped his drugs since her post-breakfast visit this morning.

Or maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t hallucinating.

It had been a week since he’d taken a bullet to the stomach, no vital organs severely damaged but he’d bled out like a gutted deer. He felt better, much better, though now he momentarily felt like a deer in headlights.

_Must be the drugs still messing up his higher functions, right? Ben? That was his name, right?_

The youth (because let’s be honest, he looked all of nineteen) stood at the entrance to his room. The glasses were no longer present; his hair had an artful tousle that looked like he’d just climbed out of some dirty old pervert’s bed and his shirt was undone enough to reveal a hint of collarbone, tantalising in its semi-reveal.

Bond wasn’t drunk but felt like he could swim to the bottom of a bottle of bourbon right about now.

Ben approached the bed with a smooth, measured gait. “Commander Bond. You’re looking much better.” He pulled one of the two chairs closer to the bed. 

Bond resisted the urge to sit up straighter.

“I feel as though perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to correct that,” he said, his voice firm but soft, seductive almost. Bond’s returning gaze reminded Ben of a scene from a film he once say, involving an FBI agent laying bare her soul to a cannibalistic charmer.

He watched Bond’s shoulders relax minutely, the man obviously feeling the ground shift beneath him to more familiar territory.

 _Dammit,_ Ben thought, _that’s £20 I owe my irritatingly correct former roommate._


	6. Chapter 6

_**July 17th 2019** _

“You must be joking,” Bond said. “It’s either that or these drugs are fucking amazing and I’m in an alternate reality.”

Ben leaned back in the chair beside his bed and crossed his legs, shifting his back which skewed the collar of his shirt further, revealing a little more collarbone. Bond’s eye drifted for a split second, but Ben caught the glance.

“Does anything about my face or demeanour suggest that I would joke about my work, Commander?”

Bond closed his eyes. “There’s plenty suggestive about your demeanour. Humour isn’t amongst them,” he mumbled through a stifled yawn. It had been a two hour conversation and had Bond been in better shape he probably would’ve wiped the floor with the young boffin.

But that was very much the point, wasn’t it. Bond didn’t like been taken advantage of and he was just about to say as much when…

“You should invite me out for a drink sometime then. I might surprise you on that front,” Ben replied. He rose to his feet and headed for the door.

And that fucking _glorious_ arse again…

“Think on it,” he said, resting long, elegant fingers against the door frame. 

“Your former or your latter proposal?” Bond groaned, failing to recall the last time he’d been in bed for such an extended period and had not gotten his end away.

Ben stopped halfway down the corridor and leaned against the wall.

_Fuck._

* * *

**_July 18th 2019_ **

Ben checked his watch. For the umpteenth time in 10 minutes. Beck reached over and placed her hand gently on his jittering thigh.

“Easy Tiger,” she muttered. “Q’s nearly through with his brief.”

And indeed he was. He wrapped up and dismissed the Branch staffers.

“Got a hot date have we?” she enquired casually.

“Pfft, I haven’t had a hot date in two years, thanks very much. I’m just fully aware that Bond will have eaten and will likely be asleep by the time I get to Medical. And I’m _soooo close,”_ he groaned, checking his watch again.

He swung by his office to grab his belongings rather than return after checking on Bond. A quick down trip on the lift and long strides brought him to the room in minutes.

He tapped on the door. “Commander?” he said gently.

But Bond had indeed dozed off, a soft amber light casting his face in shadow and warmth. 

_Definitely on the mend_ , Ben thought.

He was about to leave, but then Bond jerked violently. The hoarse whimpers brought Ben immediately to his side.

He reached out to touch his shoulder, aware fully of the possible outcome.

He wasn’t wrong.

Bond’s eyes immediately shot open followed simultaneously by a hand that wrapped around Ben’s throat. Fortunately, Ben had been in this position before. Rather than struggle against the chokehold, he raised his hand and slapped him hard across the face.

The grip immediately dropped and Bond’s glassy eyed expression assumed awareness.

“Shit,” he said hoarsely. 

“I’ll take that as an apology,” Ben said calmly, rubbing his throat and sitting down. “Hardly the roughest treatment I’ve experienced on a mattress.”

Bond could only chuckle at the calm audacity to which he was now daily subjected.

“Shall we resume where we left off?” Ben asked, hitting the on button on his iPad.

Bond groaned again. Christ, he couldn’t _wait_ to get out of this fucking bed.

* * *

_**July 19th 2019** _

“I’m not good with “theoreticals,” Bond said. “And why isn’t there bourbon in this water?” he grimaced at the glass from which he was sipping. “I ask you to bring me bourbon if you even want me to entertain the possibility of you squawking in my ear while I’m in the field.”

Ben continued to look unfazed. It was dazzlingly irritating.

“I thought you wanted to get out of this bed and back on your feet as quickly as possible. Last time I checked bourbon doesn’t accelerate the body’s healing capacity.”

“Where do you get your skin from? Do you harvest it from elephants?” Bond mumbled. Ben bit back a smile. Beck had said the grouser Bond got was a good sign. Recovery-wise at least.

He did have one more trick up his sleeve. He turned his iPad towards Bond to show him the schematics for Q Branch’s latest development.

He saw Bond’s finger twitch, the subconscious reaction of a man who hadn’t held a weapon in too long.

“We’ve taken your favourite handgun and tweaked it a little, palm-coded specifically to you so only you can fire it.”

Bond’s pupils dilated slightly. Another subconscious reaction of the trained assassin.

Ben sighed, assuming a far off look in his eye. “Imagine. You get disarmed. Your opponent gets hold of your weapon. The look of confusion when a fully loaded Walther won’t fire, giving you the opening you need to kick his arse.”

Bond resumed sipping his water. “And what? You’ll be in my ear, telling me what a good boy I am?”

“Oh good Lord no,” Ben replied, shutting down the Pad and rising to leave. “You’re really not my type, Commander.”

Bond laid his most disarming smile on him. “Tall, trim and devastatingly attractive?”

“Married,” came the reply.

“I’m not–” 

“Take a look around. We’re both married,” Ben said before pulling the door shut.

He leaned his head against the wall and quietly sighed. 

_I’ve got this._


	7. Chapter 7

_**July 20th 2019** _

Ben looked at the position of his pieces. Bond had years on him in terms of positioning pieces and playing games but Ben had one thing he didn’t: innovation tempered by youth. Really, chess was no different from coding. Understanding the infinite iterations and the path of the maze that would carry you to your destination was paramount. That, combined with appreciating it was no different from that chase scene in Wallace and Gromit, The Wrong Trous–

“I’m not getting any younger here, Mr Wilson,” Bond said. He was sitting up straight in bed, colour in his cheeks and looking a little less weathered than even 24 hours ago.

“Patience is a virtue, Commander Bond. In and off the field,” he huffed.

He slid his knight forward. “Check.”

Bond easily evaded the attack.

Ben pursued. “Check.”

Again. Evade. And knight stolen from the board.

Again? “Check.”

Throughout, Ben had watched, one eye on the board, one on Bond. Because what kind of future did you have in MI6 if you couldn’t multitask?

“Shit,” Bond mumbled. He tipped his Queen rather than give Ben the satisfaction of saying the word.

Ben leaned forward, resting his elbows on the side of the bed, close to Bond’s thigh, and beamed up at him.

“So. We have a deal then? One trial on your next mission, and if you don’t think it’s worth the time and investment, you can donate the earpiece to an old folks home.”

Bond shifted down the mattress and said nothing.

Ben knew he wasn’t in the clear. Just yet.

* * *

_**July 21st 2019** _

“You’ve visited him every day.” 

Ben looked up from the schematics he was poring over to the sight of Beck sipping a coffee at his office door, from not just _any_ mug…

“That’s my scrabble mug, you cheeky sod.”

“Is it?” she asked innocently. “I thought it was Boothroyd’s.”

He turned his attention back to his laptop. “I’ve visited him every day to keep the pressure on. He’s vulnerable, recovering, weak…”

Beck fake spluttered a sip of her drink. “Bond’s never been vulnerable in his life and if you think that, it means _he_ wants _you_ to think that.”

“Well, you’ve not visited him every day while he’s been laid up so your opinion in the matter is moot.”

“Well. Seeing as there is a standard modus operandus to a Double O agent and seeing as I’ve been here 18 months longer than you, added to that, I’ve slept with 004, I think my opinion in any matter concerning a Double O agent trumps _yours_ …” she replied, pivoting against the frame while sipping from the mug and disappearing from view.

The pen, gripped between Ben’s lips, which fortunately wasn’t exploding, dropped from his mouth.

“You _WHAT_?!” he bellowed.

* * *

_**July 22nd 2019** _

Bond was devouring a plate of scrambled eggs when Ben appeared at his door. 

He didn’t look up, giving nothing away one way or another as per usual.

_Infuriating bastard._

Ben pulled up a chair and assumed his usual position. 

“What brings thy fair form to darken my door once more, Mr Wilson? One might think you were a little taken by my horizontal if somewhat fragile form…” he deadpanned, though his eyes gave a hint of thoughts otherwise.

“It’s neither a social visit nor about my 00Q Branch Fusion proposal,” he said, giving nothing away himself.

“Oh? Well now I’m intrigued, and you don’t know how hard that is to do, young boffin,” he mused. He looked relaxed and downright inviting. Ben had to mentally remind himself of his little heart-to-heart with Beck over a bottle of wine last night.

_He’s a player. Play. Him. Back._

Ben held out his iPad to Bond.

He frowned at the screen. “What’s this? A countdown?”

“Well spotted, Commander,” Ben replied, just a touch of sarcasm edging his tone. “But to what we don’t know. M’s still dealing with the Istanbul debacle through the Select Committee hearings so asked me to brief you on the meagre intel we’ve gained since.”

“I’m all ears.”

Ben couldn’t resist a brief glance towards those slightly protruding features before powering through.

“At first we thought it might be a countdown to the release of our undercover operatives identities but I uncovered code hidden within the code. Focussed specifically on M.”

“It’s personal?” Bond asked, even more intrigued now.

Ben leaned back and closed his eyes. “Honestly, Bond. Isn’t it always?” he sighed.


	8. Chapter 8

_**July 23rd 2019** _

“If I may be so bold, Sir, but…”

Q looked at his watch. “Probably got stuck in traffic,” he muttered with a put-upon sigh. He patted Ben on the shoulder as he usually did before dismissing him. “No point in both of us hanging about waiting for the old girl.” 

Ben noted the raised eyebrow Villiers threw their way at that remark at M’s expense.

“I know you’re tight on time to finish that presentation for your 00Q Branch pitch so why don’t you head on back and crack on with that. I’ll let you know of any developments on whatever the mysterious countdown is. 003 should have made some headway by now. The trail is a bit cool but she’s better equipped than most to heat it up again,” he said with a sly wink.

Ben nodded and strode towards the lift. “See you later, Q.”

He smiled at Ben as the door slid shut, just before turning to Villiers and saying something about keeping that old girl jibe to himself.

It was the last memory Ben would ever hold of MI6′s dearly beloved Quartermaster.

* * *

**_July 24th 2019_ **

Ben could only stare in shock at the smouldering building. London’s fire brigade had gotten the blaze under control in record time, given the size of the explosion that had rocked River House. 

Numb didn’t cover it.

Q, Villiers, Shaw, Prendergast… those were just a few of the faces he had walked by on his way back to Q Branch after leaving Q to await M’s return.

He glanced around the semi-organised chaos as he sat on the steps of one of the four ambulances on the scene. M and Tanner in close and intense discussion with the fire chief and two police officers, looking on sombrely and taking notes. He saw Bond, being loaded onto one ambulance and before he knew it, his feet were taking him in his direction. He looked frustrated and helpless, feelings Ben knew he would not be processing very well. He schooled his features when he spotted the young man approach.

“Mind if I hitch a ride?”

Bond didn’t query the request. He gave a curt nod and Ben climbed in alongside him, abandoning the foil blanket to the medic waiting to close the door.

In the twenty minute ride to the hospital, a plan had been formed because frankly, Ben Wilson was not above bending the rules when circumstances demanded.


	9. Chapter 9

**_July 25th 2019_ **

“Get in the fucking chair, Bond,” Ben muttered.

“I have feet. Attached to legs. Thanks,” he replied, eying the offending wheeled monstrosity.

“Don’t have time for this, 007. I know you are entirely unaccustomed to ceding control of a situation, but these are quite extraordinary times. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Honestly, I quite see now why Boothroyd labelled M Chief Babysitter. You Double Os are a nightmare…”

“Quit bitching, Wilson and–”

They nearly collided with a nurse on the other side of his room door. “Where–”

“Oh just taking my Dad for a bit of fresh air, Nurse. He does get so terribly angsty if he’s cooped up inside for too long. And we do want his bed baths to be a pleasure not a chore now, don’t we?” Ben almost singsonged while beating a retreat towards the lift.

“You’re not half bad at the kidnapping malarky, are you?” Bond muttered, smiling blankly at the very confused nurse further down the hall as the doors closed in front of them.

“I am more than capable of thinking on my feet, 007.” The lift dinged at the ground floor. “So let’s get you back on your feet so we can knock these bastards off theirs.”

Bond had to admit to himself, the thought was making him feeling better already.

* * *

**_July 26th 2019_ **

“What’s my role in all this exactly?”

“Pass me my Earl Grey please, Bond.”

“Excuse me?”

Ben tore his eyes away from one of the three screens in which he was currently engrossed. “Pass me my Earl Grey and I’ll tell you.”

Bond hobbled over to the other desk recently abandoned by his new nemesis and placed it carefully next to the keyboard.

“So?” he enquired over the rapid one-handed sound of typing. He watched Ben’s fingers dance over the keyboard, momentarily lost in the fluidity of the movement. He only looked back at Ben a second after he paused to sip his tea.

“My role is to open virtual doors. By virtue of my exceptional hacking skills this requires some talent which I fortunately possess.”

“Modesty is certainly a quality you could perhaps work on,” he mumbled.

Ben chose to ignore him. “Your role is to open physical doors, 007.” He took another gulp of his cooling Earl Grey.

“They tried to kill you once. We’re going to lure them into the open and give them the opportunity to do it again.”

“And where is this little gathering of prey and predator taking place?”

“The last known location of the hard drive of course.” He leaned back and swivelled his chair like the arch-villain he could almost be. “How’s your Wu Chinese, 007? I hear Shanghai is lovely this time of year.”

* * *

**_July 27th 2019_ **

“Christ Almighty... Do MI6 know you’re kitted out like fucking Batman?”

Ben threw him a disapproving look before strapping his arm to the chair. “Now keep still, Bond. You might feel a slight...”

THUD!CLICK! 

“OW! SHITTING HELL!”

“...prick.”

“And fuck you too. What have you put in me?”

“A small device that can emit an EMP strong enough to disable the hard drive once it has been activated.”

“There’s a lot of variables in there, Wilson,” Bond replied, rubbing his arm where the offending device now lay nestled beneath his skin.

“Ticket to Shanghai. Palm coded Walther. Radio tracker. Our flight is in 3 hours.”

Bond stood and looked at him as though seeing him for the first time. Ben returned the stare without batting an eye.

“That’s right, 007. _OUR_ flight. I need to be on location or at least close as possible, to make this work.”

He opened the door for Bond who was feeling more and more cornered as this blossoming relationship continued to wilt his enthusiasm. “And besides. Now I’ll have some field results for M to prove how effective my 00Q proposal will be.”

“You’re awfully confident,” Bond said, turning to face him in the open exit, barely a foot between them.

Ben huffed out a breath, refusing to break his gaze or back away from the attempted intimidation. “Oh I’m just getting started, 007...”


	10. Chapter 10

**_July 28th 2019_ **

“How you’re trying to remember your training now… Mmmm… James?” His captor softly whispered, hands gliding up the front of his thighs.

_Anytime you’re ready, Boffin. Though now would be excellent,_ Bond thought.

Ben had told him that there was a tracker embedded in the EMP beneath his skin, so, as he had been stationary, or rather tied to a chair for the last 15 minutes, it might have provided a clue that he was near their target.

_What the fuck was he waiting for?_

Silva’s fake smile disappeared when he stood to retreat to the computer terminal behind them.

“And now all that training becomes soooo irrelevant. As I unleash upon the criminal world the identities of the first six uncover agents, who likely, will be dead before nightfall.”

He hit ENT on the keyboard. Bond watched. And… nothing happened.

For five seconds at least.

Bond found himself laughing at Silva’s confusion when the logo of MI6 appeared on the screen.

**NOT SUCH A CLEVER BOY**

Flashed across the screen, and the sound of helicopters filled the space around them.

Bond was so fucking delighted he couldn’t even be arsed coming up with a witty jibe.

* * *

**_July 29th 2019_ **

**_KNOCK!KNOCK!_ **

Bond paused the upward motion of the cutthroat towards the shaving foam coating his face and looked at the reflection of the door in his mirror.

He turned towards the sound, repeated - sharp, curt, concise - so like a certain person with whom he was slowly becoming acquainted.

“You took your sweet time,” Bond’s words sounded course and sleep-addled. But it was the sight of him wrapped in nothing but a towel from the waist down that nearly threw Ben off his game. Fortunately, a few years in MI5 can set a chap up for life…

“I wasn’t aware I was expected,” he said curtly, slipping into the room while narrowly avoiding any form of contact, accidental or otherwise.

“I didn’t mean now,” Bond said, shutting the door behind them. “Last night, while I was fighting off the advances of a madman, waiting for you to pull off your EMP magic.”

He turned to face Ben, walked up to him. Once again, to Bond’s ever-growing but begrudging admiration, the lad didn’t flinch an inch.

“Ever wield a cutthroat, Mr Wilson?”

Ben tilted his head, ever so slightly. “I wielded you, didn’t I?” he replied.

He lifted the blade, neither man’s eyes strayed from the other. “Do your worst. Ben…”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for tagging along. It's been a great fest. Kudos to the organisers! Your comments and kudos are always a joy.
> 
> (PS July 31st is the flight back and they slept through most of it. ;) )

**_July 30th 2019_ **

Ben moaned groggily into the pillow, slowly being soothed awake. It was still dark outside, the Shanghai sky drowned out by the lights of the city. It had been a thoroughly exhausting month, but Ben Wilson was nothing if not a tenacious, ridiculously talented, persistent to the point of—

“Irritatingly gorgeous genius.”

He only barely caught the muffled words, given that Bond spoke them through lips and with a tongue pressed hard and seeking between his arse cheeks. Ben could only laugh through another moan, wrenched from a throat that had done little but moan constant expletives only three hours previously.

Bond crawled up his back to attack his neck. “Given how terribly I abused you last night, felt it was only fair turnaround to kiss it better.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” Ben mumbled, face still half pressed into his pillow. “I’d hate to deprive you of such a golden opportunity to press an apology.” He tipped his hips back and upwards into Bond’s before grinding them into the mattress. “I do think the damage to my equipment might require a little more attention before returning to former glory.”

“Cheeky fucker,” Bond muttered while working his way back down his spine to resume. “I’m a long way off done with you…”

As ever, the ring of a boffin’s smartphone jinxed that particular moment.

“Fuck,” Bond muttered, rolling onto his back next to Ben, “if that’s M, tell her I’m dead.”

“Will do, 007,” Ben said. He hit accept.

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Of course, Ma’am.”

“Well I know it was a bit unorthodox but…”

Bond rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I understand.”

“We’ll be on the next plane.”

“Of course. I’ll tell him when I see him.”

He hung up.

“That sounded like fun,” Bond commented.

“Fun’s one word,” he said, still looking in awe at the screen.

Bond frowned. “You’re practically speechless. Come on then. What did the old battle-axe have to say?”

Ben turned, the smirk and the look of a man who was about to wreck all kinds of havoc filled Bond’s vision.

“007. I’m your new Quartermaster…”

“You MUST BE fucking JOKING!!”


End file.
